Merry Christmas, Sheriff
by Michael C. Ryan
Summary: It's the time of year to rejoice, to be around friends and family, and to remember one thing: Not everything sells at a yard sale.
1. The Attic

It's important to note that this story takes place after my alternate ending to the _Toy Story_ franchise. But if you're not interested and just want to see some old friends again, then all you really need to know is this: The toys still did end up with a new owner (both less and more coincidentally, depending on which AE you go with out of the two I've written), this one by the name Michael Ryan, who has an older sister well-acquainted with Andy since childhood. And...that's all. Enjoy!

* * *

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas_,  
_Let your heart be light.  
__From now on, our troubles will be out of sight_.

Buzz danced stiffly – or rather hopped in one place, swaying his body from side to side, atop Michael's lap regardless of the slow and soothing tempo of the renowned Christmas song playing on the radio. The sleeve of the young boy's red ski jacket was solicitously used to clear away a minor blemish on Buzz's helmet. He smiled at the clearness of the transparent plastic when he finished.

"_Have yourself a merry little Christmas_," Ashley began to sing after turning the wheel to vigilantly swerve the slippery corner, "_Make the Yule-tide gay. From now on, our troubles will be miles away._" She smiled into the rear-view mirror at her little brother's attempt to hide his giggle behind Buzz's hefty figure. "Can you sing this one?"

Michael shook his head.

"Which one can you sing? What about that one you learned in school?"

After a moment of just tracing the distinguishable purple lines on Buzz's space suit, he started to sing his rendition of 'The Twelve Days of Christmas', quickly becoming lost with the lyrics.

Ashley laughed. "We'll work on that." She turned the radio music back up.

For one of the hottest summers of the year, the cold December weather brought to the Tri-County area certainly made up for it. Snow coated the grounds thoroughly, leaving the roads both slushy and slippery, much to their parents' concern. But after planning this well-deserved night out even as they were all preparing for final exams, there was nothing that would stand in their way.

Ever so diligently, Ashley pulled their family van into the driveway, stopping just before the light blue van parked directly in front. Michael held Buzz up to the slightly fogged-up window so he could see that familiar house with the number 234 standing out quite clearly against the brick, giving him a chance to observe the Christmas lights partially up along the edges of the roof.

Ashley unbuckled her seatbelt after turning off the ignition. "'You wanna come?"

"Yeah," he immediately responded, unbuckling his own seatbelt as well.

Slamming the door shut behind her, Ashley moved over and pried open the sliding door. Michael, excited, wasted no time hopping out of the car, Buzz tucked under his arm with care. Taking his sister's hand, he was led up the snow-layered path to the front door.

"Are we gonna stay?" Michael inquired.

"Mm, not long, probably," she confirmed after ringing the door bell. "We've still got some time before everyone else shows up."

They waited for a second before hearing a call from deep inside the house followed by the scurrying of feet. It wasn't long before the door was drawn open, causing the Christmas wreath hanging from a hook on the door to swing somewhat.

"Hi," Mrs. Davis proclaimed, her lips quickly forming an enthused grin.

Much like her own mother, Mrs. Davis had aged well over the years. Although her height had dwindled somewhat, she still appeared as young and vibrant as she'd always been twelve years ago.

"How are you, Mrs. Davis?" Ashley said with a matching smile.

"Fine, fine, come on in." She stepped out of the way to allow them into the warmth of the Davis home. Ashley reminded Michael to kick the snow and slush off of his boots before stepping in. They took a moment to admire the Christmas decorations around the inside of the house as the door was shut behind them, blocking out the cold, brisk air that had been rushing in.

Michael raised Buzz up to his chest, facing him forward to give him a chance to observe the beautifully-decorated interior. He particularly grew fond of the red, silver and gold ornaments hanging from the branches of the Christmas tree in their living room.

"Let me take your coats," Mrs. Davis insisted, ignoring Ashley's assurances that they were fine. Mrs. Davis proceeded in assisting Michael in removing his jacket after he had slipped off his mittens attached with yarn inside. "How are you, Michael?"

"Good," Michael replied timidly. He pulled Buzz closer to him.

She strode over to the banister to hang their coats. "Andy's just up in the attic. You're welcome to wait in the living room for him."

Ashley looked over at the staircase. "Actually, I think we'll surprise him." She patted her little brother on the back. "Take off your boots, buddy."

As soon as his feet were free of his damp snow boots, Michael was scurrying up the flight of stairs. His sister followed not far behind, taking the time to also run her fingers admiringly across a red bow tied to one of the faux evergreen branches that covered the banister.

Turning into the upstairs hallway, Michael's sock-covered feet slid across the floorboards in an attempt to come to a quick halt when he saw the attic ladder extending down.

He heard his sister laugh at his sudden reluctance. "It's an attic. You know how we have a basement? It's like that, but upstairs." She chortled again when Michael hesitated to touch the ladder. "Come on. We'll go together."

With that, after politely taking Buzz from his hands, Ashley proceeded to assist her brother onto the ladder. It didn't take Michael long to get the hang of it, remembering how he would climb the ladder at the playground.

They both managed to stick their heads into the spacious attic simultaneously. "'Whack-a-mole'," Ashley pronounced, also lifting Buzz up so his top half was visible over the edge of the floor's opening.

Andy was startled at first at the sound of her voice. From where he stood over a large box, one of the many that filled the cluttered attic, he turned around and smiled upon the sight of the two of them poking their heads into the room. "Hey."

"Hi, Andy," Michael said first and foremost. He quickly climbed up onto the squeaky floorboards and dashed towards the familiar boy. He threw his arms around Andy's now-crouched figure.

"What's up, little man?"

"Look." He unattached himself from Andy and hurried back to his sister, who was maladroitly trying to get herself up over the edge. He picked Buzz up (much to Andy's amusement, causing Ashley's pleased face to falter) and brought him to Andy.

Andy's grin widened. "Hey, Buzz," he said. With Michael's silent permission, he accepted Buzz from him and held the toy up for his viewing pleasure, nostalgia coming in swiftly. "I see you're looking cool as usual." He turned him around for a 360 degree inspection. "Wow, have you even played with him yet?" he questioned as he observed Buzz's untarnished figure.

"Oh, Andy, don't even get me started."

He chortled, as did Michael. "Very well. Back to your duties, Space Ranger." He handed Buzz back to the young boy.

"What'cha up to?" Ashley asked.

"_I_…" Andy declared, returning to the stack of boxes in the corner, "am looking for some more outdoor lights, which will likely be tangled, which I will likely get stuck untangling."

"I'll help you look."

He nodded gratefully. "Thanks."

All the while, Michael had already begun to explore the attic full of dusty, forgotten remnants, or as he saw them, long-lost treasures available for him to discover. The first thing he pulled out was an old, bronze candle-holder. He reeled back when another one fell over, causing a loud clank as it hit a corroded, discoloured flat pan.

"Michael, don't touch anything."

"That's all right. Let him have fun. There are probably some old toys up here he might like."

Ashley huffed. "'Cause, you know, you haven't given him enough toys."

Andy laughed. "There's no such thing as too many toys."

"Tell that to my parents."

Deciding to go ahead despite his sister's initial prohibition – a single 'yes' from one elder is enough for any kid, after all – Michael proceeded to continue rummaging through the Davis' storage as Ashley and Andy searched for Christmas lights. Oftentimes, he would come across the interesting object like a dart board or an old typewriter. But after pushing away an old rocking chair, he soon came across a box labelled '25¢' with the flaps flipped shut. His eyes twinkled with interest. He set Buzz down on the floor beside the box before prying open the flaps.

"I think I found them," Ashley announced. From inside a tall box, she pulled out part of a long strand of thick wire with multicoloured light bulbs.

Andy nodded with a sigh. "All right. Let's assess the damage."

As Andy kneeled down beside the box and began the arduous task of getting the knots out, at the corner of her eye, Ashley noticed Michael intently leaning over another box at the opposite end of the room. "What'd you find there, Michael?"

From deep within the box, Michael pulled out a brown and beige egg-shaped figure with a face on it.

Andy stared over his shoulder. "Ah, must be some old yard sale stuff."

Michael popped open the Troika to reveal a smaller blue one.

"You can keep those if you like. They're a lot of fun."

Ashley gave her brother a knowing look. "What do you say?"

"Thank you," Michael declared. He snapped the plastic egg shut and placed it on the floor next to Buzz.

As the two teenagers distantly watched Michael return to rummaging through the contents of the old box of yard sale items that never sold, Ashley was shaking her head. She turned to Andy. "Push-over. Now every time he comes here, he's gonna go searching through your stuff for things you'll say he can have."

"No harm, no foul," Andy replied.

She rolled her eyes. Andy was going to return his attention to the tangled wad of Christmas lights until the image of Michael staring at them through small, peacock-blue binoculars with orange legs appeared at the corner of his eye. He chuckled at the almost cartoon-comical sight.

"I see you," Michael giggled in response to Andy's amusement.

Andy waved. "Try winding him up."

Michael did just that. When he was finished, he set the toy down and watched it walk across the floorboards. He giggled again when it walked into Buzz, continuing to step forward without any further displacement.

"If you want that, you-"

"Oh, no you don't." Andy couldn't help but laugh at Ashley's abrupt interruption. She placed her fists on her hips.

"My mom will be more than just grateful if we got rid of some of the stuff up here. If anything, _he_'s doing _us_ the favour. Let him take what he likes."

Meanwhile, as Michael waited for the appropriate permission, Buzz managed to adjust his head enough to catch a glimpse of Lenny, who had finally come to a stop and was standing by his arm. He didn't attempt to prevent the grin from forming on his lips when he saw Lenny's eyes shift towards him. From behind the wind-up toy, the largest Troika quietly opened itself to reveal the second largest, who opened itself to reveal the third largest, and so on. Buzz's surprised but satisfied grin widened upon the sight of them all.

When Ashley finally gave in to Andy's acceptable logic, Michael excitedly pulled out the things he liked from the box. Not many toys filled it as much as old knick-knacks and kitchen appliances, but of Andy's old, unsold toys, Michael further selected the ones that appealed to him most: a figure of a heavy-weight wrestler, an Etch-a-Sketch magic screen, and a squeaky rubber shark.

In the meantime, Andy had given up with the knotted chord of Christmas lights. "I'll finish the rest later," he affirmed. He grabbed the box by the flaps.

"All right-y. Come on, Michael. 'You finished?"

After one final brief search of the same box, he eventually nodded his head. "Yeah."

Andy set the box down near the opening in the floor next to the ladder before approaching Michael and his small pile of old, used toys he'd formed. "Let's see what you got."

While Andy glanced over the toys Michael had selected to take home with him, Michael's eyes suddenly became fixed on something sitting atop a wooden table near the very back of the room. An old bird cage blocked his chance for a full view of it. But the faded light pink and white was quite clear.

"You have chosen wisely, Michael-san," Andy decreed, setting down the Etch-a-Sketch.

"What's that?" Michael asked, pointing towards the figure.

Andy looked forward. "The bird cage?"

"No."

He looked again. "Oh, that." He returned to his feet and, stepping over a few boxes and other sorts of obstacles, made his way over to the table. "This was Molly's," he said, picking it up. "But I think I probably must've played with it more than her. She liked her Barbie dolls better."

Buzz, who continued to wait patiently by the old yard sale box among the other toys, perked his head up in almost unfathomable curiosity, wishing that Michael had set him down on the other side of the box so he could see.

"She's pretty."

Andy bent down to his level, holding firmly onto it. "Yeah, she is." With one breath, he blew on it, relieving it of as much as the dust as a single exhale could rid of. "She's kind, too. And wise. Even if she does tend to lose her sheep sometimes."

Buzz's eyes widened.

"'Can't blame her, I guess. They're wild things."

Michael giggled.

"The lamp should still work." Andy pulled the electrical cord over from where it had dragged along the floor. "I know it looks like something more for girls, but she makes a good damsel."

After a moment, they both turned to Ashley almost concurrently.

Ashley shrugged her shoulders. "Don't look at me. Michael's gotta be careful with it."

"I will."

Andy nodded. "I know you will. Here, let me get a box."

Buzz heard a subtle clatter of heavy glass against the floorboards just behind the cardboard wall blocking his view. The sound was long-forgotten, but still familiar. He was reminded of the day of the yard sale that changed the toys' lives for the worse, some more so than others. But when Michael knelt down and gently removed a certain part of that lamp, as he listened to Michael's quiet mumbles meant to be coherent dialogue in his mind's eye, he immediately knew that Jessie and Mrs. Potato Head would be gaining some pleasant, long-sought company.

But most importantly, he could not wait to see the expression on Woody's face.

* * *

_It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas_. Ah, Christmas: easily one of my favourite times of the year. I know it's still rather early, but because this story will be multi-chaptered, I thought it best to begin it now, especially since my exams end so late this year.

So, I'd usually say to expect the next chapter soon, but I'm not entirely sure yet. Rest assured that the story won't go unfinished before Christmas Eve.


	2. The Surprise

To say the least, Michael was discontented with the idea of dropping Buzz off at home with the rest of his new second-hand toys. But the reminder of the fun they would soon be enjoying in the December snow with skis, snowboards and the thoughts of hot chocolate quickly buried his sorrows. Ashley popped open the trunk of the car and carried the box to the house with Buzz set atop the closed flaps that flimsily sealed it, Andy continuing to reassure him from his place in the passenger's seat of the playtime Michael can have with them when returned home that night.

With her parents at an old friend's Christmas party across town, Ashley stumbled into an unmoving, but still warmly-spirited home elegantly decorated to bring out the festivity of their family's favourite time of year. She lugged the box of toys upstairs, immensely cautious of one of the toy's fragility, and into her little brother's room, setting it down on the bed and Buzz against the pillow. She shut the door behind her on her way out.

Buzz's eyes shifted, his eager plastic body almost twitching impatiently, awaiting the sound of Ashley's footsteps descending down the stairs. Without further ado, he gauchely stumbled onto his feet and scurried to the box.

"Hey, Buzz-boy," Hamm pronounced, shifting from his place next to the digital clock on the nightstand. "What's in the box?"

Buzz paid no heed as he pulled himself up on top of the flimsy cardboard cuboid.

Around the room, Michael's toys inquisitively began to gather around the bed, watching the ecstatic space ranger pull at the dented flaps folded over each other in order to answer their hindering question.

"Where's Woody?" Buzz inquired somewhat distractedly.

Jessie poked her thumb over her shoulder towards the door. "'Still downstairs from last night."

He nodded as he threw open the flaps, silently recalling the old Christmas special Michael had fallen asleep watching in his father's arms, holding Woody in his, before being carried upstairs to bed without the comfort of one of his favourite toys. He could only assume that the lanky cowboy doll was still lying on that sofa, patiently waiting to be realized of his misplacement.

Balanced on the edge of the box, Buzz peered down into it. "It's all right," he declared benevolently before lowering himself inside. "Come on out."

The other toys waited, mystified. "Who's he talking to?" "Who's in there?" "Isn't that Andy's mom's handwriting?"

The first figure to emerge was not the familiar face of the famous '90s space ranger, but instead that of a even more familiar squeeze toy shark.

"Mr. Shark?" Andy's old toys said in unison.

"Aye, maties," he proclaimed to the befuddled old friends of his as he was assisted down onto the bed. "'Bet ye didn't expect we our return from Davy Jones' Locker."

"He means Andy's attic," Buzz clarified, hoisting the Troikas over the edge while Rocky did the same with Lenny.

Ecstasy quickly filled all of Andy's toys as they were reunited once again after such long years of nearly forgetting their faces – or screen in Etch's case. Voices erupted as the old yard-sale toys were led into the small crowd of energetic toys to be willingly introduced to new ones. Moco, Michael's old stuffed monkey his father had won for him from a claw machine, quickly grew fond of Lenny, much to Mr. Potato Head's relief after putting up with months of vigorous nuisance from the playful stuffed animal.

Buzz quickly drew Rocky's attention away from the crowd on Michael's bed. "Rock, give me a hand."

Rocky quickly complied, grunting as he pulled himself up and over the edge, landing inside the box with Buzz. Together, with the rest of the toys standing by, awaiting to see who else they would be genuinely surprised to see again, they carefully lifted that final individual out of the box.

The second she saw that delicate face, a wonderful idea immediately clicked into Jessie's head.

~ O ~

"Buzz, it's perfect!"

Buzz turned around to face the overjoyed cowgirl running towards him, boots clattering noisily against the hardwood floors, braid of yarn whipping behind her.

"We wanted to make Woody feel more at home, and with Bo here now, it's perfect!"

"I wasn't aware that he didn't feel at home."

Jessie huffed. "Well, sure, if ya think inside that lil' box."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Come on, space boy, this'll work out great. Bo's all for it."

"For what?"

She grinned. "A surprise for Woody." She grabbed his wrist and pulled him away from Michael's low-rise bookshelf. "Now first, we're gonna need a distraction."

"He's downstairs. How are you going to get him up here?"

"He's still got his legs."

Buzz rolled his eyes amusedly, preparing to rephrase the question until Jessie quickly continued.

"Let's see, Bullseye could probably go downstairs; 'least we don't gotta worry about him spoiling it. Mr. Shark and Etch have a little somethin' of their own planned. Buzz, you can be in charge of leadin' Bo over, 'cause I'm gonna be in charge of leadin' Woody…"

"Or we could just wait for Michael," Buzz suggested.

Jessie stopped in her tracks and set her hands on her hips. "Then we won't even get t' see his face- Do you even wanna do this?"

"No, I do. It's just… Do you think Woody won't have a problem with what we're doing? He's going to be really uncomfortable."

The grin returned, this one much more conniving than excited. "Good."

~ O ~

"Sh! I hear him coming."

A genuine, pleased smile continued to grow on Buzz's artificial lips as he scanned the room, somewhat amazed at what he was looking at. He'd never seen toys so hard at work to make one of their fellow toy's days a better one. Both Andy's old toys and Michael's preschool ones were gathered around the slightly-open doorway, waiting for Bullseye and Jessie, whose excitement encouraged them to follow the victim – or the _surprisee_, as she called him – along the entire time, to return with the…_surprisee_.

He turned to Bo, who stood patiently by his side in silent anticipation of the cowboy doll's sightless arrival. "Jessie said you were okay with this," he declared, hoping for some confirmation.

She grinned towards the rather worried space ranger, clutching her staff close. "I've learned to listen to Jessie as long as it doesn't jeopardize anything."

He nodded to her. The years had been unsurprisingly kind to the porcelain doll. Other than the dust that had accumulated over her delicate figure – the filth from which she was now thankfully free of, the gentle colours that shaped her glass face and dress remained vivid and added to the elegance and beauty she had always possessed.

"Is this really necessary?"

Buzz heard a subtle, sharp breath being drawn in from beside him at the sound of his voice from the hallway.

"You'll thank me later," came the reply.

Already, Buzz could sense the undeniable discomfort from the sheriff even with the door still blocking his view of him. Eventually, though the small crack between the door and the doorframe, Bullseye made himself visible, entering the room backwards, his tail wagging vigorously. Woody followed him through by the much-needed guide of the enthusiastic cowgirl pushing him forward.

Buzz turned to Bo, whose lips gradually changed form into one of the most humbly contented smiles he'd seen since his and the gang's return to Andy's room from the airport. Her graceful blue eyes followed Woody as he stumbled cautiously into the room.

"Okay, whoever's in on this, come clean now."

"Hush," Jessie hissed. She silently beckoned Buzz and Bo closer with her hand. Bo, with Buzz's generous accompaniment, quietly stepped closer to exactly where Jessie wanted: directly in front of the 'X' formed by masking tape on the floor.

"When can I take this off?" Woody demanded, fiddling with the scrap cloth from Ashley's sewing box that formed a blindfold over his eyes.

"Would you stop?" Jessie smacked his hand down and readjusted the material so it covered his eyes completely. "Not yet."

By her guidance, Woody finally arrived at the marked point. He blindly stood directly in front of Bo, who stared up at him, her eyes glowing. Buzz could see how tempted she was to make him aware of her presence. If not for her quiet grace and unfaltering patience, she would have been ready to brace the cowboy's neck with the hook of her staff and pull him close.

"Now?"

"No. Hold your hand out."

Woody's head cocked slightly. "Come again?"

Rolling her eyes, Jessie clutched his wrist and pulled it forward. "Like this." She made his palm face up. "Now just hold it there."

"All right, I am."

Jessie breathed in excitedly. "'You ready?" She nodded towards Bo.

"I'm ready."

Bo smiled once more just as she gently slipped her hand into his.

It took a moment. Despite the blindfold, much to his surprise, Buzz and other toys fortunate enough to have a view of Woody's face, could clearly see the flurry of expressions cast over the cowboy's face in such a short amount of time. But the feeling of that delicate hand was so recognizable to him that, almost immediately after the extremely-brief perplexity had blown over, Woody's eyebrows rose to the top of his forehead.

The gentle smile widened; Bo stepped closer towards him. "Merry Christmas, Sheriff."

Jessie hastily undid the knot formed behind Woody's head. The blindfold slipped off, but it took Woody's eyes a second to adjust to the figure he thought he saw standing before him and heard speak. Even so, he couldn't believe it. His mouth remained open. "Bo…?"

The sound of small propellers started to grow. He took the look of disbelief from Bo's face and directed it upward. Gradually, there descended Michael's remote-controlled helicopter, with lengths of string tied to its landing skids, which carried Mr. Shark.

"Ahoy, lad!" the squeeze toy called passionately, as though he'd just spotted land after several weeks out at sea. "Avast ye! Ye landlubber likely didn't be expectin' a run-in with an old seadog."

"What'd he say?" Hamm asked Mr. Potato Head, who shrugged uncertainly.

Disbelief faded from Woody's expression when he finally wrapped his mind around what he was seeing. He started to laugh heartily at the joyous sight of them as the toy helicopter veered Mr. Shark to the sheriff's level and Lenny, Rocky and the Troikas made themselves visible from behind Michael's other toys.

As Woody willingly participated in the draw Etch had set up for the two of them to perform once again, all the while, Buzz watched along with the other toys with a smile as big as Woody's. Jessie was right: He'd never really seen Woody as happy as he was right now. And although they weren't graced with the presence of other old friends like Wheezy and RC, something Buzz feared would become a painful reminder to Woody and the others when he first opened that box, the space ranger knew that acceptance would quickly triumph.

"Surprised?" Lenny asked, gazing up at the sheriff.

Woody chuckled. "You've no idea." He nodded to them in quiet final acknowledgement before slowly returning his attention to the beckoning porcelain doll. "So this…this whole time-"

"You didn't know, Woody," Buzz reminded him. "None of us knew."

Despite his friend's assurances, Woody lowered his head in guilt. "Bo, I-"

"Shh." Bo placed a finger over Woody's lips. She poked her staff up a couple of times, shifting her eyes respectively.

With his eyes, Woody followed the direction she gestured towards. He held his hat as his head tilted back to look up towards the ceiling. On the bookshelf several feet up stood Bo's sheep, holding a small piece of shrubbery in their mouths. It didn't take long for Woody to realize what it was.

Finally, Bo could no longer stand the suspension. She threw her staff to one side and pulled the cowboy close to her for what the mistletoe was symbolic of. Woody surprised himself by not being at all embarrassed about the crowd of toys that cheered at them, instead enjoying the numerous kisses lovingly given to him by his one-and-only porcelain shepherdess.

* * *

I apologize for the wait. Needless to say, exams are over, and I'm very much feeling in the Christmas spirit.


	3. The Dance

"All right, let's give it a try."

Michael stood eagerly by his mother's side as she reached just beneath the colourful lamp shade for the protruding switch. Indeed, at the turn of the switch, the newly-replaced light bulb began to radiate serene rays of light throughout the surrounding area of the already daylit bedroom.

Mr. Ryan brushed his hands off. "And as He said 'let there be light', there was light."

"Do you like it, Michael?" Mrs. Ryan asked.

Michael nodded, shifting the lamp slightly by its glass grass-coated base.

"It was so nice of Andy and Molly to let you take it."

"Now, Donna, call me on it if I'm wrong, but I _believe_ the Davises are spoiling our son."

Mrs. Ryan nodded and turned to her four-year-old son. "Is that true, young man?"

"No," Michael proclaimed, grinning. His mother pulled him in closer and tickled him some. "_No_," he laughed through his resistance.

Mr. Ryan bent down to pick up the toy shark lying on the floor next to his feet. "Well, it looks as though we have a spoiled child, my dear. What are we gonna do with him?"

"We could give all of his Christmas presents to Salvation Army."

Michael was too busy enjoying his parents' show to verbally react to the horrifying plan.

"A good plan, but somewhat cruel." Mr. Ryan slowly began to approach Michael, who watched him in an attempt to hide his giggles behind his hands. "How about we send the _shark after him_!" He whipped out the toy shark from behind his back. "_Rawr_!"

Michael screamed and broke free out of his mother's arms before bolting out of the room, his father not far behind him, adding his personalized soundtrack of the _Jaws_ theme as he held it out in front of him. Mrs. Ryan laughed quietly as she switched off the lamp and followed them out, partly closing the door behind her.

In the darkness of the bedroom, with no light to brighten it but the afternoon daylight shining from the exterior, the lamp's prime accessory stood tall next to her porcelain sheep. She shifted only at the sight of an all-too recognizable figure scampering from the bed, across the floor, to where the lamp was prompted upon the dresser. She watched with a smile as, with a great deal of effort – more so than he would have required the last time she saw him several years ago, he pulled himself up onto the surface of the dresser to where she stood.

Her sheep bleated and scurried over to Woody, nearly jumping at him. Woody chortled silently and patted each of their heads. "Easy, girls."

With a firm hold on Woody's courteous, extended hand as well as her staff, Bo stepped off the lamp base and onto the dresser surface. "Why, thank you, Sheriff."

"'My pleasure, fair maiden."

Always the gentlemen.

"You know," Woody began, rubbing the back of his head, "I got so wrapped up, I almost forgot to give you your New-Room Orientation."

She had faintly heard it, but between now and after Michael and his parents had left the room, the sound of hustling and mumbles anticipation came through from downstairs. The front door slamming shut distracted Bo from the cowboy as he continued on about beginning an official tour separate from one he would later give to the others.

Woody watched her as she neared the ledge of the dresser adjacent to the window and peered through the foggy glass. He joined her, following her gaze down below at the young boy dressed in his winter getup carefully step down the slippery steps, holding his father's hand for support.

"I've missed you."

The sheriff's bewilderment came not from the words themselves, but from the familiarity of them. Still, he went along as though the last time he'd heard those words from her were after his return from Andy's last trip to Cowboy Camp. "I've missed you, too."

"I've been worried about you," she declared, keeping her eyes on Michael as he was beginning to pile up the snow on the ground and rolling it into a large snowball.

"About me?"

She nodded. "With all that Andy meant to you, I didn't know how you were coping."

After letting out a breath, Woody shrugged it off. "I'm all right, Bo," he assured her.

Bo nodded, smiling when Mr. Ryan arrived by Michael's side with an even larger snowball. Michael laughed when his toque was pulled down over his eyes and attempted to reach for his father, who merely dodged him in a fit of mirth of his own, for a counterattack of some sort despite his sudden loss of sight.

She pulled her staff in closer. "He's not too different from Andy."

Woody lowered his gaze to his boots and adjusted his hat so it sat more firmly atop his head. He cleared his throat, but the emotional response to Bo's reminder showed. Eventually, he spoke: "His name's Michael Ryan," he declared, as though already beginning the New-Room Orientation. "He has an older sister and two parents who love him. His favourite things include cars, rocket ships, soccer, and playing with his toys at every chance he gets."

Although at first she was taken aback, a smile quickly formed on her lips. She pulled him in closer. "Point taken."

He smiled and leaned in willingly.

~ O ~

"Front row seats, baby!"

The toys scooted in closer together atop the balcony, adjusting themselves in order to see the large television the Ryans were watching in the family room. It was a near perfect view other than the chandelier they had to gaze around. Only a select few of them had chosen to join the fun since it was not a traditional Christmas special the family was enjoying, but a live performance in a concert hall in Nevada featuring a renowned group of women singing Christmas carols.

"Oh, darling," Mrs. Potato Head swooned, hugging her husband's arm and snuggling up close, "isn't this just perfect?"

"Almost, dear," Mr. Potato Head remarked, brushing the monkey tail out of his face. But Moco, who sat behind them, wouldn't let up as he instead removed the plastic potato's hat for an inspection.

Jessie swung her legs over the edge of the balcony. "Check it out, Woody," she proclaimed. "All the men are wearing cowboy hats."

Woody nodded from his place next to Bo. "'Surprised all the women aren't."

She nudged him for his sarcasm as he chuckled lightly before she returned to her own spot beside Buzz, who welcomed her by placing an arm over her shoulders as she laid herself against him. Just as they got comfortable, another song began.

"Oh, this one is just wonderful," Mrs. Potato Head, who was rather familiar with the group's work after finding many opportunities to listen to Andy's mother's CDs. "Listen."

But the others found more fascination in the stage presence of a couple quickly coming out from the darkness of the farther end of the stage, their steps synchronized to the fast pace of the musical choir's rendition of _Carol of the Bells_. Their attire almost made Jessie giggle in excitement.

"Oh, well," she giggled, "isn't that somethin'."

Similar to the other backup male singers, the man, tall and lanky, wore a black cowboy hat and matching boots along with his charcoal black collar shirt and pants. The woman, blonde and beautiful, wore a silk, flowing light-blue dress which reached down past her knees.

"Out of courtesy to the lady, I'll keep the jokes to a minimum," Mr. Potato Head assured the cowboy.

Woody furrowed his brow. "It's appreciated, Potato Head."

_Oh how they pound, raising the sound,  
__O'er hill and dale, telling their tale,_

_Gaily they ring, while people sing_  
_Songs of good cheer, Christmas is here._

_Merry, merry, merry, merry Christmas,_  
_Merry, merry, merry, merry Christmas._

The couple, hand in hand, turned to each other as the sound of the beautifully-played violin grew in intensity. Once it reached its peak, when the melody began, so did the couple's feet to its rhythm. The dance was focused on at many different camera angles, each one more exquisite than the one before. Throughout the dance, their eyes remained locked on each other's, after each spin, after every bound.

"You only _wish_ you could dance like that, Woody."

Woody rolled his eyes as Bo picked up her staff threateningly. He had practically been waiting for it. He watched as the dance ended on a high note with the man sweeping the woman off her feet and catching her close to the ground just before she hit. He would have had a mild heart attack if he ever tried that with Bo. Mind you, trying any of those steps with Bo would have likely ended in either disaster or embarrassment.

But who knew? One day, perhaps, he could prove Mr. Potato Head wrong. He looked towards Bo, who rested her head comfortably against his shoulder as she stared at the screen in the distance.

Just not tonight.

* * *

Heh, I know: Very over-sentimental. It's something I'll often try to avoid, but hey, it's Christmas.

I wrote this final chapter because of this song by Garth Brooks called 'The Dance', which is an amazing song with lyrics that can very much relate to Woody and Bo, but I'm not too big on song-fics (unless the song is meant to be heard, but even so, I have a limit), so I had no place for it. Thus this chapter's title was created. 'Little fun fact for your reading not-so-much pleasure.

That said, Merry Christmas, everybody. Thank you so much to everybody who reviewed; you'd be surprised at how much those reviews really do help writers. To everyone reading this, God bless you all, and have a wonderful Christmas day.


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